


Dancing a Tango on Ice

by SaintedStars



Series: Yuri on Ice Songfic Project [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Chris is dramatic and everyone indulges him, M/M, Moulin Rouge References, Slight twist at the end, Song: El Tango De Roxanne, Songfic, This whole thing is one big Moulin Rouge reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 14:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16097522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintedStars/pseuds/SaintedStars
Summary: In an old room in Paris, two writers chronicle the time that they spent in a haze of blind passion. A time where all that had mattered was freedom, beauty, truth, and love. The days that they had spent in love with two dancers from the jewel of the Bohemian Revolution: The Moulin Rouge.





	Dancing a Tango on Ice

**Author's Note:**

> HOLY SHIT! This was fucking intense and, yet, I feel like I should have tried to make it even more intense!
> 
> My hands were shaking by the end of this but I'm so glad that it's done
> 
> The Song count is 7 but at a length of 7 pages, I had a lot of movie to get through to get to this bit and I can only hope that I did it justice because, believe it or not, I really like these songs and you can't really have some of them without the scene they belong in. I just didn't want to make it into a series as I'm already working on one and I don't want more on my plate
> 
> Then again, if enough people request it to change my mind, I'll see what I can do to make this into a series.]
> 
> Enjoy!

On one dark night, as the clouds slowly came visible by the sky that gradually began to lighten in the oncoming dawn, in the ruins of what had once been a fine, freshly built and decorated apartment room in Paris, sat two men pressed against opposite walls. Around them were walls that were covered in peeling wallpaper, many strips of which were now lying sadly on the floor, leaving behind the bare boards underneath them. At one end of the room was a pair of beds, thin, narrow and hardly comfortable but still somehow managing to be a sanctuary for the two souls who managed to pull themselves out of their memories long enough to sleep. Pressed another another wall was a small desk with a typewriter on top, a pair of old, beaten chairs standing beside it.

 

One of the men was tall with what had once been delicate features that had been roughened by heartbreak and silver hair that had once been long and flowing but was now cut short with just enough left in the front of cover up one of the man's eyes. His eyes were a piercing blue but long hours spent with the company of drink and little sunlight had caused them to become dull and bloodshot. The other man was shorter and somewhat stockier but with firm features, black hair that had shaven into a undercut at one point but was now somewhat overgrown. His eyes were black and seemed to be haunted with sights of which they were unable to put into words but were forced to relive every time they closed.

 

The silver haired man reached over and pulled a green bottle of liquor to his lips but, for the first time, he didn't drink. He seemed to hold it there for a moment, caught between the decision to imbibe or abstain. To the surprise of both himself and his partner, he set it down on the floor, pulled himself, albeit with shaking legs, to his feet and walked over to the typewriter. He pulled the table in close, slotting the chair he had sat himself down in neatly between the table's legs and positioned his fingers over the keys, preparing to type. They hung there, poised and ready, for a moment as the silver man closed his eyes and allowed himself to be once again washed away by his memories of the once glittering jewel of Paris. He waited for a moment, gathering the memories, hoping against hope that he wouldn't lose himself to them again and began to type.

 

The pair had come to Paris in the hopes of losing themselves in the Bohemia culture that had sprung up there in the shadow of the freshly built Eiffel Tower. To uncover the mysteries and wonders of beauty, freedom, truth and, above all things, Love.

 

There was just one problem.

 

Neither of them had ever been in love.

 

That had all changed when an unconscious Italian dropped through their roof. The imprint of his arrival was still there in the ceiling above them.

 

He was soon joined by a black haired Italian woman dressed as a nun. Above them, three more heads joined the party, peering into the room through the hole. One was a red-headed woman, another was pale Chinese man with freckles and the third was Mexican with a dark complexion and shaggy brown hair. Without really meaning to or really giving their consent, as the two men who's room had just been partially destroyed had been trying to find out whether or they would be able to get it fixed, Victor and Otabek, those being the names of our protagonists, found themselves being roped into assisting with the 'play' that the 'troupe', as they called themselves, were rehearsing in the hopes of showing it to one Georgi Popovich, the owner of the palace of opulence and of man's darkest desires, known as the _Moulin Rouge_.

 

Before they had really realised what was happening, the two men had been suited in top hats and tails and had infiltrated the club where hundreds of things seemed to be happening at once. The dancers, all different shapes and sizes and in costumes all the colours of the rainbow and more, seemed to be everywhere at once, legs flying into the air and hands going places that would have made even the dirtiest of perverts pause but as Victor and Otabek had been pulled in to sit at a table...

 

Everything seemed to come to a dead stand still.

 

The lights went down.

 

The room turned blue

 

There was a small shower of silver and black from the ceiling.

 

And the real show began.

 

Descending on a swing together, were the two stars. The two performers that every man here would have given every penny of their fortunes to be with. At first, what caught the eye was their features, one with black hair and the other a dazzling blonde, both pale skinned but their eyes were closed, the contrast nearly blinding every eye that rested on them but still dared them to come back for more. There costumes, while beautiful, were nothing much at first and Victor had been about to voice this before Mila, who was the red-headed woman, pinched him hard and whispered,

 

“Just you wait.”

 

The whole room seemed to freeze for a moment, a minute, an hour, a year, an eternity, just to take in the sheer beauty of the two figures descending as if from heaven. When the black haired man first opened his mouth, the whole room seemed to inhale with him and when they began to swing, there was not a man in the room who wasn't in love with them. Who wanted them all for themselves.

 

They flitted about among the adoring crowds, though never leaving each other's sides, gloves hands reaching out to toy with individual targets, pretending to take interest in the trinkets that were dangled in front of their faces but then tossing them away without a care, never missing so much as a beat of their duet. Soon they had been covered by dancers who created a kind of dome around them that both they and Popovich had disappeared into.

 

Mila gave both men another hard pinch, taking hold of their chins and forcing them to look back at the dancefloor as the dome bloomed like a flower to reveal... Otabek and Victor's jaws dropped.

 

The two star performers were now decked out in completely different costumes. The taller black haired man was dressed in a unitard with what appeared to be silvery scales in strategic places on his stomach and moving around his sides, a half skirt attempting to cover what was an undeniably fine ass and his hair had been slicked back, meaning that anyone could be caught in his piercingly intense gaze.

 

The blonde, however, had gone another route entirely. His was a white piece with black, white and silver accents that projected an aura of innocence and vulnerability. Otabek couldn't help but notice that he was fending off more hands than his partner was. Unfortunately, as the performance raced towards the crescendo, it was cut short by the dancer in black going distressingly pale and fainting away into the arms of a dancer who just managed to catch him. Hurried off stage along with his partner, Popovich was quick to assure all attendees that 'Eros' was quite alright and that this was all according to plan.

 

Well... it was kind of was.

 

What the crowd hadn't been aware of was the fact that whilst the two dancers had been getting changed in the dome, they had been running through a 'plan of attack' as they had called it. They had been told that a insanely wealthy duke was in attendance and one half of the pair, Yuuri Katsuki from Japan, known here as Eros, had peeked out from the dome, trying to spot the man who, Georgi had described as the one getting the hankie shaken at him,. At the same time, Victor had gotten something spilled on him and Michele, the Italian who had dropped through his ceiling, was dabbing a hankie at him in a vain attempt to dry it. Yuuri's eyes locked onto him immediately and seemed to flash with the beginnings of a strategy. Unfortunately, Georgi had meant the man sitting in the booth next to that one, one occupied by The Duke, Jean-Jacques Leroy who's hankie had been taken by Michele. When Yuri Plisetsky, known as Agape, from Russia had popped his own head out, he had sadly been mistaken as well as Otabek was now in need of drying off, though this time it was because a dancer had attempted to pull him onto his feet and refused to let go until Otabek had built up quite a sweat and the dancer had themselves been pulled away.

 

Before long, both men had found themselves escorted up towards the 'Pet Room' where at first they were met with confusion by the two dancers. Confusion that only increased when the two writers accidentally blurted out that neither of them were the Duke, as the two had been demanding to know, thinking that the other was an attendant of some sort. Agape had nearly manage to force the pair off of the balcony before Eros got the blonde away from them and was hastening them back towards the entrance, desperate for them to leave before the actual Duke arrived.

 

They had managed to force the pair underneath the bed before Jean-Jacques Leroy walked in and they had to not to gag at the positively nauseating performance the two put on. They had a talent for improvisation but it was clear that they were out of their element in this case as, when Victor and Otabek tried to get out from underneath the bed as the two performers kept jumping up and down on the damn bed, nearly smacking them in the head several times. It was only when the Duke had to make a retreat, saying that he was going to get some more alcohol before the pair were able to get out and explain themselves.

 

Though Agape had been furious at their deception, though it was really a misunderstanding, Eros was more accepting but anyone with eyes could tell that he was still humiliated. Unfortunately, the sudden rush from confusion to panic to rage had taken its toll on Agape and he collapsed, Otabek quick to go over and make sure that he was alright. Their luck seemed to be taking an even further turn for the worst as the Duke walked back in, this time accompanied with Popovich who took one look at the scene before him and had been about to say something when the troupe burst in through the balcony, swinging down with admittedly impressive flexibility but horrible timing. Through what had to be the most nerve-wracking moment of Victor and Otabek's lives, they managed to make it seem as their presence in the Pet Room was because they had been rehearsing for a play that they were going to present to the Duke. They gave him a brief synopsis, trading the original setting of Switzerland for Japan and for the most part, Leroy seemed to be fooled by their excuses and agreed to fund them, making Eros' and Agape's eyes light up.

 

Soon the place with buzzing with the news that the Moulin Rouge was to be transformed into a proper theatre but something else had captured the combined attention of Victor and Otabek. That something just so happened to be Eros and Agape, both of whom were sitting on the opposite side of the room. What they didn't know was what Popovich had told them not too long before he had made the announcement.

 

One of the terms that the Duke had made was that he was to have exclusive access to both Eros and Agape. However, this didn't stop Victor and Otabek from sneaking in on the pair later that night when everyone was getting trashed in celebration of the extra funding. At first the two performers didn't want to have anything to do with the pair, declaring that Love just didn't exist. That all that mattered in the world was where and how you were getting your next meal but the two writers pressed on, insisting that there was so much more than that.

 

The pair had been sceptical up until Victor and Otabek had swept them into their arms. Spinning their partners out and then back into their arms, though Otabek had considerably more trouble as keeping Agape from getting away was like holding onto a soaked cat. Eros seemed more confused than angry but gradually seemed to be getting into it, especially as Victor kept piling on the compliments which made his face turn bright red. Through what could only be pure dedication, Eros and Agape or Katsuki Yuuri and Yuri Plisetsky, as they explained, soon found that they were falling for the pair.

 

“I don't believe it.... I'm in love...” Yuuri murmured, panting from the frantic dancing that they had been doing and, though he would never admit it, Yuri agreed and moved in a little closer to Otabek.

 

The next few weeks were spent in a swirl of rehearsals, secret meetings and, most importantly, avoiding Leroy, who seemed determined to spend as much time with the performers as he could but they managed to evade him each time. Unfortunately, this didn't sit well with Popovich either. He knew that they would only be able to keep away from him for so long before he lost patience and started making threats and made it very clear to the pair. They would worry about this for a while before the next meeting with their lovers.

 

Unfortunately, Popovich's fears came true all to soon. On the night before the first major rehearsal, when everything would be put together for the very first time, Duke Leroy demanded that the pair spend the night for him. If they didn't, then he was threatening to pull the plug on everything and financially ruin the _Moulin Rouge._ Being a Bohemian to his core but unable to stand the thought of his top performers being denied their dream, Popovich was torn between his two devotions and it wasn't just Eros and Agape that he was concerned about.

 

With the funding from the Duke and then from the theatre, none of his performers would ever have to sell themselves again. They wouldn't have to worry about where their next meal would come from or if they were going to eat at all. Even though he encouraged the pair, as anyone with eyes could see that they couldn't keep their hands off of each other (unless you name was Jean-Jacques Leroy, that is), he knew that they were walking a tightrope. A tightrope that on the verge of snapping any day now and, sadly, it seemed that that day had come.

 

He approached the couples, as it was easily to find one but it was rare that you would actually find them together. Yuri had declared that Victor and Yuuri were just plain disgusting but the barb lost quite a substantial amount of its impact when you realised that he was sitting in Otabek's lap. Victor took that moment to chirp that telling the difference between the two was tricky and suggested that Yuri be nicknamed 'Yurio'. The blonde almost exploded at him but Otabek wrapped his arms around his waist, giving him a gentle squeeze and Yuri calmed down almost instantly, though he was still grumbling about the nickname. It was such an adorable scene that it nearly killed Popovich to deliver the news of their situation.

 

Victor and Otabek had been horrified at the prospect but, acting with surprising amounts of restraint, Yuuri and 'Yurio' accepted their fates. Popovich gave them some time to come to grips and exchange their declarations that this dalliance with the Duke was just that. A meaningless fling that would have no effect on their relationship but something that the pair of them had done something so often that it had lost all meaning but what they ad with Victor and Otabek was the first thing that had held real meaning for them.

 

The two writers watched with blank poker faces as they saw their lovers, dressed to the nines in their usual finery, climb into the carriage that had been sent to pick them. They stayed on the steps and watched as the carriage carried away their lovers until it had disappeared around a corner, going back inside with noticeably pinched features. They sat down around the edges of the vast ballroom dance floor, a few of the other performers were gathered around it as well and one of them who they could recognise but not name, poured them both a drink. They thanked the man, who was a tall blonde with visible stubble on his chin but he didn't move away and even seemed to be lost in thought as he stared at the pair.

 

“You're wasting your time my friends....” He remarked, grabbing the attention of both men.

 

“What do you mean?” Victor asked and, for a moment, the man simply smiled before striding past them onto the dancefloor. He raised both arms up and, though it could been the men's imagination, but a spotlight soon came over him, dimming everything else but catching every eye.

 

“We have a dance!”

 

  
“In the brothels of Zurich  
Tells the story  
Of a prostitute.  
And a man... who falls in love...  
With her.”

 

The Swiss man seemed to summon one of the dancers to stand by his side with a flick of his outstretched hand. A tanned man hailing from Thailand heeded the call and pressed himself up against the Swiss man's side, his arm coming around to wrap around the tan waist presented to him as their eyes seemed to meet. Victor recognised that the Thai man was a friend of Yuuri's, named Phichit. He could also tell right away that this was an older story than the Swiss man, who's name was Chris according to what Otabek hissed into his ear, had said. It was an old song, an old dance and a far older story here as well as in Switzerland. __  
  
First there is desire,”

 

Chris gently leaned forwards to dip his partner into a sweeping circular movement then straightening up, standing with their legs spread and one foot outstretched before them.

_  
“Then... passion!”_

 

They stomped their front feet down in unison, their eyes meeting and a spark of passion igniting between them.

_  
“Then... suspicion!”_

 

In a sharp movement, the two moved in two different directions until the only part that was still connected were the hands wrapped each other's wrists.

_  
“Jealousy! Anger! Betrayal!”_

_Where love is for the highest bidder,  
There can be no trust!”_

 

Chris turned and suddenly grabbed Phichit by his wrists, dragging him across the floor as the dancer let himself be manhandled, one leg extended out behind him.

 __  
“Without trust,  
There is no love!”

 _  
“Jealousy.”_ The crowd called out, standing as one.

 __  
“Yes, jealousy...  
Will drive you... mad!”  


Chris threw Phichit away from him and the Thai dancer spun across the floor into the arms of another dancer who had strode onto the floor.

 _  
“Roxanne!”_ He began, straightening as the crowd around the the dancefloor stood up and began to move into the light.

 __  
“You don't have to put on that red light  
Walk the streets for money  
You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right...” As if on cue, the crowd divided up into threes and enacted the same dance that Chris and Phichit had done, one man acting as the first lover and then casting the woman away into the arms of another, sometimes with force as if rejecting and forgetting them, sometimes trying to hold onto them despite they were being scorned. __  
  
“Roxanne  
You don't have to wear that dress tonight...”

 

Chris sent a pointed glance over at the men sitting together. _  
_

“ _Yuuuuri!_  
You don't have to sell your body to the night...”  


Victor and Otabek were on their feet and walking around the edges of the dance floor before they even realised what had happened.

 _  
“His eyes upon your face...”_ Victor began, unable to tear his eyes away as his mind filled with images.

 

_Yuuri taking off his gloves._

 

_Sitting down at the Dukes fine table._

 

_The duke standing and coming around, a long box in his hand which he opened to reveal a jewel laden necklace._

 

_Worth more than Victor could offer him in a lifetime._

 

 _  
“His hand upon your hand...”_ Otabek carried on, his own head filled with images that made his skin crawl.

 

_His Yuri being led out of his chair by the hand, an identical necklace being wrapped around his pale throat._

 

_The pair being led in front of a mirror and slowly divested of their out clothing, leaving them in the slinky dresses._

 

_The Duke making bedroom eyes at the pair whilst they kept up their poker faces._

_  
“His lips caress your skin...”_ Victor picked up, his hands clenched into fists of rage.

 

_Jean-Jacques pressed his lips to the pale skin of Yuuri's shoulder, making goosebumps rise._

 

_Yuri being brought around and tanned fingers undoiing the fastenings of his dress, the material sliding down his slender body into a puddle on the floor. Yuri's breathing quickening and Yuuri's eyes widening._

 

_With a shove, the two were pushed towards the bed and Yuuri was divested of his own clothing, the pair's eyes meeting and sharing a silent fear, a silent prayer._

__  
“It's more than I can stand!” Both men screamed all of a sudden. Otabek charged across the dancefloor to join Victor and together they sprinted from the building, Victor having enough sense to hail a carriage because if they went on foot, they would be too late. __  
  
(Yuuuuuri) The echoes of the dancers were ringing in their ears and they urged the driver to go faster. To get them there sooner...

 

 _  
Why does my heart cry?_ Please God, let them get there. Don't let the unthinkable occur.

 __  
(Yuuuuuri) It was becoming like a taunt now and they almost missed the driver's call, telling them that they were approaching. __  


 

“ _Feelings I can't fight  
You're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me....” _ That couldn't have been coincidental. Otabek could have slapped himself when he realised that the Duke would have wanted to be as close to his investment as he could. As close as he could be to Eros and Agape.

 __  
“And please believe me when I say I love you!” Victor pleaded, tears gathering in his eyes _._  
  
Back at the Moulin Rouge, Chris was still dancing with Phichit, having taken centre stage whilst the others moved around them in rotating rows and columns. Seemingly possessed by the moment, he whispered against his partner's skin.

 

“ _Ich liebe dich so sehr, was soll ich tun?_

_Du hast mich verlassen, du hast mich verlassen_

_In einem Tango_

_In meiner Seele war ich_

_Ich habe mein Herz verloren_

_Ich will nicht mehr leben_

_Weil ich dich nicht überzeugen kann_

_Verkaufe Yuuuuuri nicht...”_

 

Victor and Otabek charged upwards through the building, led by an almost supernatural instinct.

 

First one flight. __  
  
(Yuuuuuri)  
Why does my heart cry?

 

A second flight.

 __  
(Yuuuuuri)  
Feelings I can't fight  
(Yuuuuuri)

 

A third.

_Please hold Yuuri, we're coming!_

__  
You don't have to put on that red light  
(Yuuuuuri)

 

_Wait for me, my love! I'm almost there!_

__  
You don't have to put on that dress tonight  
(Yuuuuuri)

 _  
“Yuuuuuri!_ They screamed, bursting into the room at a run and stopping dead in the doorway as the image of what they had feared beyond all else filled their eyes and minds. Pinned down on the bed by The Duke, was Yuuri and Yuri. Not thinking, barely aware of what was happening, the two writers charged across the room and Otabek raised his fist, decking the Duke directly in the face and knocking him to the ground. Yurio barely had the time to call out Otabek's name in alarm before he was swept into his arms and Victor, carrying Yuuri in a similar position, led them out of the door, leaving the Duke passed out on the floor.

 

_The End_

 

_Bonus!_

 

As the scene cut and everyone moved forwards to prepare for the next one, one only had to glance around to see Victor and Yuuri with their arms wrapped around each other, Victor pressing firm kisses to every inch of Yuuri's face, whispering how he would never let something like that happen again. Yuuri just laughed at his fiancée's overprotective nature and, standing a few feet away, Yuri was cursing them out for being disgusting. Though his insults lost some of their punch when one looked down to see that he was holding Otabek's hand with white knuckles.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is: saintedstars.tumblr.com
> 
> Kudos/Comments/Bookmarks are always appreciated!


End file.
